Flying Apart
by amieofabc
Summary: Rorschach muses in the seconds before he dies. Dan/Ror- romantic if you want it to be, it could go either way for this. Enjoy!


She _was_ beautiful, even he couldn't deny that. And really, he'd seen this coming since they'd all been in a room together for the first time. She, in that stupid, teenage way of hers had seemed to at least think Dan cute, but Dan...poor Dan was already head over heels for her. It was inevitable they would be together someday; all Rorschach hadn't counted on was how long it would take for that tiny spark, so easily doused out then, to spring back, this time as an inferno.

And when it had finally happened, he knew right off. Daniel's was a smell he knew well, he was bound to notice when it was tainted by sex, by _her_. After he noticed that change, he hadn't been able to sleep. Sleep was important, essential. Without it he wouldn't be alert; he might miss a detail or let some piece of filth slip away. But his eyes couldn't bring themselves to close, and his mind wouldn't stop chattering in the voices of his mother's clients- "Dan loves Laurie. You knew all along he wouldn't care about you, nobody does. You're being foolish, soft, careless, stupid. You can't form attachments with this man."

But that woman literally drove him to murder. He had no need, no drive beyond pure adrenaline to kill Big Figure. A man of his...stature would've been killed in the chaos or recaptured. But he'd wanted to irritate her, to see the vauge horror in her eyes. And he'd wanted to hear Dan defend him. Sure enough, as the bathroom door swung shut, Dan was explaining that it sometimes "just happened", how he, Rorschach, wasn't someone who could be predicted or made to compromise. Laurie had simply stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, but the way she bit her lip told him she still feared him. And that was all he needed.

He didn't love Dan, that much was certain at least. At this point he doubted he was even capable of love. But he did respect him and feel something like concern for him whenever they fought together. The fact that he made him feel anything at all besides anger surely meant something, but Rorschach didn't like to think about it. Emotions led to distractions which led to getting sloppy, which he couldn't afford. When he was with Dan he told himself to shut up and enjoy it and that was that.

So far he could be thankful that emotion hadn't made him compromise. At the moment he was content that Dan's face was the last one he'd ever see, full of concern. He ripped off his cloth face (never would he call it a mask), exposing the jagged lines of his scarlet-stubbled face to the biting air. Not that he cared about the weather. And why should he? If he didn't die today in the snow he'd likely be killed in some kind of nuclear holocaust. From what they'd seen of Manhattan's power, the fate was equally painful either way.

Was this the first time Dan had seen him in person without his face? The man was staring.

Rorschach ignored it and turned to Manhattan. His pupiless eyes were boring into him, as if trying to figure him out before he killed him. But it was the tiny, almost unnoticeable motion of his head towards Daniel, as if questioning why Rorschach would care about him and only him of all people that made him lose patience. "What are you waiting for?" he asked quietly, a trace of emotion-was it desperation?-, of humanity slipping into his usually monotone voice. A compromise. The only one he'd ever make for another man.

Again, the glowing man simply stared. Again he was left to plant his feet to keep from running back to New York-that disgusting whore of a city to whom he knew he belonged no matter what-; for truth, for a chance to fight next to Daniel without sluts in black leather and yellow latex ruining everything.

He straightened his back, stiffened his shoulders, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Death could be dignified, even in the face of Armageddon. He didn't bother looking at Dan again, it would just make it all too complicated.

"DO IT!"

He understood, as every molecule of his being flew apart, why none of them died in bed. This cause they worked for-it was too important, too much of a compulsion. They all died fighting a battle that only they understood. He merely hoped Dan would find victory in a luckier state than he.


End file.
